The Aristocrat Read Online Penelope Ward

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
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“It’s clear you and she have a great relationship,” I said. “I think it’s interesting, though, that she insists on calling you Mrs. Angelini.”

“I’ve tried to get her to call me Eloise for years. Not doing so is a protective mechanism on her part, I think. I’m sure she’s told you about her background. As a child, she allowed herself to get close to caretakers a time or two, and that backfired. I do hope by now she knows I’m not going anywhere. She’s an adult, obviously. Technically, I’m not responsible for her in any way. But she’s the only family I have aside from my brother. So I’d be lost if she ever left me. I need her just as much as she needs me.”

“That’s beautiful. Truly. I’m glad you found each other.”

“Don’t hurt her too badly,” she said after a moment.

Unsure of how to respond, I simply told the truth. “I don’t want to hurt her at all.”

“But you will. She’s going to let you do it. The fact that she invited you here tonight tells me that.”

Felicity walked in at that moment, interrupting any further insight I might have gotten from Mrs. Angelini, whose words had left me uneasy. Although, the message was certainly nothing I didn’t already know.

Mrs. Angelini stood. “Thank you for the birthday dinner, folks. The Fireball is calling me. I’m gonna pour myself a nightcap, head to my room, and read my steamy book.” She winked. “Why don’t you show Leo the rest of the house?”

Felicity turned to me. “Would you want a tour?”

“I’d love that,” I said, finishing the last of my wine.

She then took me through all of the rooms on the first level, which included an impressive library with built-in shelves and an ornate, wooden desk.

I wasn’t going to suggest she show me her bedroom, but when she began walking up the stairs, I followed.

We passed Mrs. Angelini’s room and continued down the hall until we reached the end. Felicity opened the door and led me inside. I was glad she trusted me enough to bring me to her bedroom. I was going to remain on my best behavior tonight, but she had no way of knowing that, especially after the way I’d attacked her mouth earlier today.

Felicity’s room was much more feminine than I might have imagined—not that she wasn’t a feminine beauty, but she’d never come across as a girly girl. I was surprised to find it decorated in pastel colors.

“So, this is my room. I haven’t changed it up in years. But I love it. It’s spacious and looks out over the bay.”

There was something very calming about this space. It was organized and held the same quiet elegance she did.

A series of notebooks in every color of the rainbow caught my eye. They were lined up on a shelf.

“What are all these?”

“Those are my planners. They’re all for this year.”

“I thought most people had one planner, not twenty.”

She laughed. “I collect them. I don’t know. They make me happy. Planners and stickers. I know it seems crazy.”

“Crazy? You’re talking to a man who’s been painting with the intention of becoming the next Picasso, when the reality is more like paint by number.”

“That’s true.” She sighed. “Well, I suppose like your painting, the planners are…therapeutic for me. I feel more aligned when I know what I’m doing and where I’m going on a particular day. Growing up, it was always important for me to feel like I had control over my life, even when I never quite knew where I’d end up. Somehow if I took one day at a time, and wrote down everything that was going to happen, it brought me some solace and lessened my fear about the future as a whole. Like, I’ll check my planner and tell myself, ‘Today, Felicity, you’re going to do XYZ. You don’t need to worry about anything else.’” She shook her head. “And then, of course, that habit transformed into a superficial addiction to colorful planners and stickers. I’m making this sound way deeper than it should be.”

“No. It makes perfect sense. And I’m learning that when it comes to you, nothing is superficial. There’s deeper meaning behind almost everything.” My eyes wandered to a photo collage on her wall—a city at night, two hands with fingers intertwined, more colorful planners. I walked over to it. “What’s this?”

Felicity seemed hesitant. “It’s a vision board.”

“What does that mean?”

“These are all things I envision in my future, things I want in my life. Visualizing them on a board like this is supposed to help you manifest them.”

I leaned into the picture. “Is that New York?”

“Yes. I’m a city girl at heart, even though I grew up by the water. I’d love to live downtown in the midst of all the action someday. In Boston, I lived in Cambridge, which wasn’t quite downtown. It doesn’t have to be New York, though. That was just the example I used.”


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